


Pushing

by justanothermaniac



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Psychological Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, could be twincest if you squint, please protect these precious broken boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 08:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19292230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac
Summary: He can't help the small smile that pulls at the corners of his lips. He tries to tell himself it's just because Jerome is happy, as if that would make it any better.It doesn't. But he's not ready to admit that to himself yet.





	Pushing

**Author's Note:**

> An alternative take on Lila's death. Idk, I'm in a very angsty mood lately, please bear with me.
> 
> As always, please call me out on any grammatical errors or weird word/phrasing choices! I'd appreciate it. 💙
> 
> I hope you enjoy this piece. Much love!

Jeremiah's fingers are trembling. It makes smoking difficult, the cigarette keeps slipping from his lips and his shaky breathing makes him cough during in and exhaling. Smoking is supposed to help him relax but he doesn't feel relaxed in the slightest.

He knows what will really help him relax. Or rather, who.

He always misses Jerome when they're apart. His warm, protective presence leaves him cold and vulnerable when it's gone and his heart aches because half of it is missing. Jeremiah hates that feeling. That's why they're rarely apart. Only when they have no choice.

_I have a choice._

Jeremiah lets the cigarette drop to the ground and stomps on it. _I have a choice but I know where I need to be._ He starts walking on shaky legs, his heart beating hard and fast. He's being pulled by an invisible string that cannot be severed, a string that connects his soul to Jerome's. He has a choice but at the same time, he doesn't. It's always going to be Jerome.

Jeremiah takes step after step. He lifts his trembling hand to pull open the door.

Jerome is waiting for him.

He's sitting on the couch like a schoolboy, back straight and feet firmly placed on the floor. His eyes light up at the sight of his twin, making Jeremiah's chest swell. Jerome smiles, honest and happy. He only ever smiles like that for Jeremiah. "I was afraid you weren't gonna come back." 

Jeremiah smells the blood even before he really sees it. He doesn't know how that makes sense. He couldn't possibly miss it. Jerome's face is sprinkled with red dots, as are his upper arms and his shirt. The hatchet resting in his lap is bloody as well.

Jeremiah sees their mothers arm peek out from behind the couch. The dark red puddle surrounding it gives a harsh contrast to the paleness of her skin.

Jeremiah's stomach twists once. He closes the door behind himself before taking another step closer. Jerome puts the hatchet away and slowly stands up. He doesn't come closer. Jeremiah wonders why.

"I was too", Jeremiah admits, approaching the older twin slowly. Jerome tilts his head. His eyes seem dead now. Soulless. His smile is frozen. Jeremiah reaches up to cup Jerome's bloody face between his hands. The blood is still warm. It's a strangely pleasant feeling Jeremiah doesn't dare to question. "I'm sorry for leaving."

Jerome's hands move to rest upon Jeremiah's. "No", he says, his thumbs rubbing over the younger twin's cold skin. "What matters is that you came back."

Their foreheads touch and both of them feel the jolt of content. This is how things are supposed to be. Jeremiah finds it absurd that he forgot that for even a second. "I might run again", he whispers as he wraps his arms around Jerome's neck, his heart clenching at the confession. He knows it's true. He's not as strong as he should be. Not as strong as Jerome tells him he is. "But I'll always come back to you, Jerome."

The older twin wraps his arms around Jeremiah's waist and pulls their bodies flush together. Jeremiah feels warm and protected. Safe. _Safe, only here_.

"And I'll always be here", Jerome promises. Jeremiah knows. He lets his face slide down the side of Jerome's to press against Jerome's neck. He inhales deeply. His brother smells of chocolate and hugs. Hard work and forehead kisses. Madness and blood.

Jeremiah isn't worried that he loves the scent. It's Jerome. He loves everything about Jerome.

The older twin buries his own face in Jeremiah's hair. "Strawberry brain", he mumbles, one of the many nicknames he's given Jeremiah. Jerome says Jeremiah smells like strawberries. Jeremiah doesn't know why. He supposes it doesn't matter. He doesn't know why Jerome smells like chocolate either.

"We have to clean up here", the younger twin says then, his voice muffled by Jerome's neck. He feels Jerome's chest vibrate when he starts to giggle. "Momsie always _hated_ it when this place was a mess. Now look at the mess _she_ made!"

The giggle expands until it's a laugh, loud, honest and crooked. Crooked because Jeremiah knows this isn't a laughing matter. Or it shouldn't be. He can't help the small smile that pulls at the corners of his lips. He tries to tell himself it's just because Jerome is happy, as if that would make it any better.

It doesn't. But he's not ready to admit that to himself yet.

Jerome has stopped laughing and his hands move up to cradle Jeremiah's head. He's still smiling as he starts showering Jeremiah's face with kisses. "Love love love love _love_ you, Miah ~", he sings and Jeremiah chuckles. He wonders what mom would think. Not that it matters. Her lifeless body behind the couch can't really react to anything anymore, can it?

He shouldn't be so unfazed by this, Jeremiah realizes. Then again, there's a lot of things he shouldn't be doing or feeling. Who even decides what's right and wrong? This world has provided the twins with nothing but pain. Why should Jeremiah bend to its rules? Why should Jerome?

Maybe it's not Jerome who's crazy. Maybe it's the rest of the world. Jeremiah thinks it makes sense. Does that prove that he's crazy too?

_As if you'd need proof for that._

He suddenly realizes he hasn't said it back yet. "I love you too, Jerome." He once again wraps his arms around his brother's neck and sighs with content when he feels the familiar hold around his middle. "You're my world."

Jerome chuckles and presses a kiss to Jeremiah's temple. "You're my universe", he replies and both of them finish in unison: "You're my twin."

_My World._

_My Universe._

_My Twin._

Lila is dead and the twins are free. Jeremiah's heart unclenches because after eighteen years of suffering, he thinks they can finally be happy.

 

* * *

 

He thought wrong. 

 

* * *

 

Jerome has put an end to it and now Jeremiah is alone. He's watching his twin being taken to Arkham, laughing maniacally and Jeremiah can feel it, he can feel Jerome's amusement, his anger, his pain, his happiness, his love. He feels all of it at once and it's wrong, he shouldn't be feeling all of it so strongly. Jeremiah knows his brother's mind is truly broken now.

Jeremiah wants to break his own mind too so he can match Jerome. He always wants to match Jerome.

A small voice in the back of his head tells him something he already knows but tries not to. It sounds a lot like Jerome.

_You already match._


End file.
